The world ended yesterday. At around 3:30pm a great gust of wind swept over the lands and vaporized every living creature on earth, plant and germ life included. In a matter of seconds, everything humans built, colonized, or otherwise claimed, was reduced to a layer of fine ash. Eventually, even the wind sat still and refused to blow. The planet was dead.
Despite all of that I still had to go to work. The office felt different. It was quieter than usual. Aaron wasn’t stopping by my desk every thirty minutes to discuss anime and his water fast. The constant sound of keyboard clicks and shuffling papers was missing. I didn’t really feel the need to slide my shoes off and rub my sock feet over the carpet anymore. Everything was different.
Sitting naked in a pile of softened dust was strangely therapeutic. What used to be my office now felt like warm blanket of powdered clouds. My ass and back were covered in the remains of the nightshift. I spent my office time making ash angels on the ground. When that was over, I took to making drawings in the dust; art work that would never be seen by anyone.
This will likely be my daily routine for the next two weeks. As the starvation and thirst grow, I imagine I’ll gradually lose my connection to reality as I drift into a welcome madness. At least I won’t die here. I’ll be on a beach somewhere, sipping drinks that no longer exist, with my feet in water I can’t see, with people that died a long time ago. I’ll probably miss the ash angels, though.